


If my life is mine

by inplayruns



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Dean and Cas are mushes, First Time, M/M, PWP, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 05:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6599359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inplayruns/pseuds/inplayruns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beating like a hammer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If my life is mine

**Author's Note:**

> Set at some point post-S11.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean blinks.

He looks down, steadies his hands on Cas’ chest. There’s a hitch there, but Dean can only tell because he’s got one in his own breath too. Dean had thought about it, but didn’t know what Cas would look like under his clothes. Like a man, it turns out, flat chest and tight stomach and wide shoulders tapering down.

Dean’s hand twitches toward Cas’ dick, but doesn’t quite get there. “Hey, Cas,” he says, instead. 

“Do you want this?” Cas’ eyes are dark, still, but the crinkle between his eyes is pronounced; he was never good at poker facing.

“Yeah,” Dean says, before another heartbeat can pass. “Have for a long time.”

“Help me, then,” Cas tells him, propping himself up on his elbows. He does it effortlessly, Dean notices and appreciates. “I’m new to this.” There’s a wry tilt to his voice.

“Liar.” Dean’s voice carries the same tone. He reaches back and pulls out the lube, the bottle halfway done because it’s been used dozens of times while Dean was imagining – this exact scenario, really. “Heaven’s a bunch of peeping Toms.”

“I’m new to you,” Cas says, the amusement dropped. His hands skim up Dean’s sides, fingers catching lightly at the skin over his ribs, until he clutches both hands to his shoulders. “And that’s important.”

“Sweet talker.” But Dean obliges, takes Cas’ hands in his own and coats the fingers of one of his hands with lube. “Go slow. Been a while.”

“But not never.”

“No.” Cas would know that anyway, but Dean doesn’t mind saying it as he urges him down carefully. Now they’re connected, skin-to-skin, from mid-chest to hips. Cas had kissed Dean while they were falling into this bed, getting undressed, and Dean expects another kiss now, but all Cas does is smile up at him, close-mouthed but warm. He’d fumbled his hand around Dean’s dick while he was getting his pants off, and remade his body from nothing, but this feels more intimate than anything that came before it.

Cas’ fingers, slippery with lube, trail over the space behind his balls. Dean absolutely does not make an undignified sound in response. 

It’s been a while since Dean had any fingers inside himself that weren’t his own, and it’s hard for him to get the angle right. Cas doesn’t get it perfectly either, but truth be told Dean doesn’t care. He’s swept away by the cresting wave of sensation anyway. Cas’ hands are broad and Dean’s thought about them for so long now.

“Is this alright?” Cas asks, as sparks skitter up Dean’s spine and grow goosebumps across his skin.

“Fuckin’ – great,” Dean gasps. “You can use two fingers. Three.”

Maybe Dean should pull them into a different position. It can’t be easy for Cas to maneuver. But he’s always been a stubborn son of a bitch, and it’s no different here. Cas has no technique at all, but it’s still good, so good Dean’s already going a little crazy. As for the technique, Dean’s got time to teach him, he realizes.

Dean has to blink hard at that. “Cas,” he says, even as he shoves himself back on the three fingers inside him, skidding over his prostate. “You gotta – I wanna get you inside me now.”

“Are you ready?”

Dean bites back a laugh. “Only been ten years,” is his only response, quiet. 

The look on Cas’ face is too soft, too sentimental, and Dean finds himself taking initiative in response. It’s been too long, but it’d be hard to forget how to do this, or how it felt. Carefully, Dean lowers himself onto Cas’ lap, inching himself backwards until Cas is fully seated inside him.

“Not bad, right?” Dean says, still that same light lilt in his voice even as he accustoms himself to the burn, good and full, inside him, and in his thighs. He looks down at Cas.

_Not bad_ may have been an understatement. Cas looks like he might melt, and his eyes are hazy and laser-focused – on Dean, it’s a lot to take – all at once. Dean can remember the terrifying creature in the barn that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up; now he’s flat on his back, looking up at Dean and touching him. The effect is much the same, still. 

“Dean,” Cas breathes, almost dreamy. “I didn’t know you would be so –”

“What?” Dean grins, and rears up. Cas visibly swallows. “Huh?”

“I thought about this very often,” Cas says, after a few moments. His hands are bracketing Dean’s hips, and Dean’s hands are splayed across his chest. “For a long time, I thought I shouldn’t. Years.”

“Join the club,” Dean tells him, with a grin, right as Cas thrusts particularly hard.

“It wasn’t a very good one.”

“Not at all. This is way better, right?”

“Stop asking stupid questions.” But now Cas is returning Dean’s grin with his own, and it’s perfect.

Perfect. Dean never thinks that word. When he thinks that word is when the world starts splitting itself apart. But right here, in this bed – 

“Dean.” Cas reaches a hand up, stretching toward Dean’s face. He can’t quite reach from this angle. “I want to be closer.”

“That’s all I want,” Dean finds himself saying, the words almost unbidden. 

Cas sits up in bed so easily. And then that’s it, the skin-to-skin connection everywhere Dean was craving, always craved. It’s cool in his room, but they’re both a little sticky by now, so it’s hard to pull away. That ain’t a bad thing.

Cas’ breath is hot against his neck, sharp direct puffs right there. Dean can’t help but think about all the shit they’ve been through, all the loss, the betrayal, the pain. All the trust. All the rebuilding. All the love, its roots just as stubborn as the two of them. All of it was worth it to get here, the two of them cramped and sweaty in his bed, Dean riding the hell out of him.

“Cas,” Dean says. He barely recognizes his own voice. 

“Dean.”

“I got you,” he babbles. It seems ridiculous in the situation, but right, too. He hadn’t realized his face had gone wet, his vision blurry. When he nudges his nose against Cas’, he’s the same way. 

Dean wraps his arms around Cas’ shoulders and thrills at the warmth of his skin, touches their lips together. Every movement, every time Cas thrusts or Dean shudders against his chest, every tiny noise they both make into their kiss, reminds Dean that there’s a future they can have now. Dean is here, in Cas’ lap, and they made it. They made it.

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this fic was thinking about Dean riding Cas and Cas then scooping him up in his lap. I'm a simple woman.


End file.
